The Ides of March: A Poem for MIT by the Manipal Monk

Tie us up with sheets, and hang us by your rules
We’ll stay out here all night, it doesn’t even matter
As long as we are together, holding on to hope
As you are on a slippery slope

Don’t cut us down just yet, We’ll make things right again
Don’t close your blinds on us, on us…

You will never recover from this
We will forever believe in this again
And you can never go back to the way you used to be before this started

The memories won’t go away, We rub our noses on your face
No one sees our problems here, It doesn’t even matter
And every step we take, we stay in the same place
We can’t begin to start again why can’t you just be perfect?

You will never recover from this
We will forever believe in this again
And you can never go back to the way you used to be before this started

You see Ishan’s memories and you’ll never forget it
Your face is as white as the memories that haunts us
Your windows and doors and nothing can stop us
Sometimes betrayal can make you happy

Don’t cut us down just yet, We’ll make things right again
Don’t close your blinds on us, on us…You will never recover from this

You will never recover from this
We will forever believe in this again
And you can never go back to the way you used to be before this started

Tis the Ides of March . . .